Generations
by rebecca-in-blue
Summary: "I think you say that to your father every day. I think he hears it." After she and Marius become parents, Cosette comes to a deeper understanding of Valjean.


So, I love Marius and Cosette together, and I really hope that I did justice to them here - as spouses, as parents, and as people. You might not love the name I picked for their daughter (and honestly, I'm not crazy about it, either - it's too frilly for my taste) but I do make a case for it in the story.

(For my own reference: 82nd fanfiction, 16th story for _Les Miserables_.)

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><p><em>Roll your soul through every open door<em>  
><em>Count your blessings to find what you look for<em>  
><em>Turn my sorrow into treasured gold<em>  
><em>Pay me back in time, and reap just what you sow<em>  
>- Adele, "Rolling in the Deep"<p>

Angelique had always liked bathtime, but especially since her last birthday. That was when she became a big girl, four-years-old, and Grandfather Gillenormand had given her the little toy boat. It looked just like the ones that she sometimes saw on the Seine, only much smaller, of course. Angelique always played with it during her bath. She liked to pretend that the water in the tub was the Seine, and she, sitting in the middle of it, was la Cite, and the smooth porcelain edge of the tub was the riverbank at the Tuileries, where Mama and Papa took her for outings on Sunday afternoons.

Angelique loved making her little toy boat sploosh through the water, but her favorite part of bathtime was at the end, when Mama scooped her out of the tub and dried her off. Because every night, just before she slipped her nightgown over her head, Mama tickled her. Angelique always shrieked with laughter and squirmed away, but she secretly loved it. One night, as she was going to bed, she told Mama so. She dried off her toy boat and set it on a shelf in her room - she liked to put her toys away before bed - and after she said her prayers and Mama was tucking her in, Angelique said sleepily, "Mama... what I like best about bathtime is when you tickle me."

Mama smiled. "I know that, darling. Do you know how I know?" Angelique shook her head. "Well, when I was a little girl, my papa always used to tickle me after me gave me a bath, and it was what I liked best, too."

Of course, Cosette thought to herself as she kissed Angelique goodnight and turned down her oil-lamp, she had never shrieked with laughter like her daughter always did. She had so meek, so timid, as a child - the polar opposite of her boisterous, outgoing daughter, who had never been afraid of meeting new people or making too much noise. Sometimes it seemed to Cosette that Angelique wasn't afraid of anything, and she felt slightly awed to be the mother of this beautiful, fearless girl. She was so young and unafraid.

Later that evening, as Cosette was going to bed herself, a strange, bittersweet feeling of deja-vu spread over her. She lay in bed, listening to Marius breathing beside her and the wind in the trees outside, and frowned at the moonlit ceiling, trying to remember. What she had told Angelique was true; her father had always tickled her when he dried her off... but for some reason, Cosette felt now that there had been more to it than she realized. What was it? She urged herself to think, to remember. If only she could just _remember_... but she was so tired. Her eyelids were drooping, and the cooling water lapped around her as she leaned against one side of the tub and yawned.

"Goodness, Cosette," her papa's voice said, chuckling a bit, "don't fall asleep in the tub, child. Come and let's get you into bed, all right?" He was so tall, and she was so tiny, that his voice seemed to come from miles above her head, but then he was there, crouched down to her level and scooping her out of the tub. It was only a small tin washtub, but it felt large to Cosette. Her papa wrapped her up in a towel, and she swayed sleepily on her feet as he dried her off.

She roused a bit when he gently pulled her closer, and then, as he did every night just before he helped her into her nightgown, he put one hand on her bare chest and ran his fingers along her ribs. It tickled, and her papa smiled when she giggled, but through her droopy eyes, Cosette noticed, for the first time, that the smile didn't reach his eyes. His eyes didn't crinkle, as they usually did when he smiled, and his brow was furrowed in concern, almost as if...

Cosette startled awake from the dream-memory with tears in her eyes, surprised for a moment to find herself beside Marius in their comfortable bed. In her mind's eye, she could still see her papa's concerned face, his watchful eyes. Cosette recognized that expression now. She had felt it on her own face, usually whenever she worried about Angelique. Cosette understood now. After a moment, she rolled over, pressed her face into a cool spot on the pillow, took a few deep breaths to steady herself, and asked softly, "Marius?"

He mumbled something like "Wuzzit?" but then Cosette said his name again, a bit louder, and he woke up properly. "Hmm? Cosette?" he asked drowsily.

"Marius, when I gave Angelique her bath tonight, she said her favorite part is when I'm drying her off, because I always tickle her a bit. My father used to do that with me when I was little."

Marius chuckled softly in the dark. "You know, the last time I gave Angelique a bath, she told me, 'Papa, I like Mama's baths better.' Maybe that's why."

Cosette rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, thinking. "But I just realized... Papa wasn't really tickling me."

"What do you mean?"

Cosette turned back onto her side to look at him. She could just make out his face in the darkness. "I mean... I _thought_ he was tickling me," she said, with a strange, heavy sadness in her voice, "but he was really checking to see if he could feel my ribs. He must've wanted wanted to make sure I was gaining weight."

Cosette fell silent again, remembering. She now had only the vaguest memories of her life before her father, but she knew that she'd been hungry - hungry and afraid, all the time. She still remembered the feeling of shock from their earliest days together, her utter disbelief over how much he gave her to eat. He fed her three meals a day of heavy, filling foods, and often, no sooner would she clear her plate than he would set still more food down in front of her. _Have you eaten it all, Cosette? That's my good girl. Here, why don't you just have a few more bites?_ he would say, putting another slice of bread, or scoop of mashed potatoes, or piece of meat on her plate. She had been a very obedient little girl, so even when she felt so full that she didn't want more, she always answered, _Yes, Papa,_ and ate all the food that he gave her.

She must've been so thin when her father first took her in out of the cold place. Her ribs must've been very prominent. That was why he'd fed her so much. That was why every evening, under the guise of tickling her, he'd checked to see how well he could feel her ribs.

Cosette didn't realize that she was crying until Marius put a hand on her cheek. "Cosette, what's wrong?" he asked.

"I... oh, I don't know," she said, still sobbing. Marius gently wiped her face with one corner of the bedsheet. "I just... Papa was making sure I was gaining weight, and I never even realized it. I never even _noticed_ what he was really doing." She couldn't articulate that she felt so guilty, so horribly ungrateful, but Marius knew her well enough that he guessed it.

"Well, of course you didn't, Cosette," he said softly. "Parents are always taking care of their children in ways they don't realize. That's what good parents do. Just look at you. You make all sorts of sacrifices for Angelique that she isn't aware of."

Cosette took a deep breath, her sobs tapering off. "I-I know," she said, her voice still shaky. "But I still... I just wish I could tell Papa _thank you_. I wish I could say_ I love you_ to him, just one last time."

Marius was silent for a moment, but he reached out one hand, found Cosette in the darkness, and began stroking her hair, soothing. At last, he said quietly, "I think you are saying that to him. I think you say that to him every day, just by being such a good mother to Angelique. I think he hears it."

Cosette managed a smile at that. She squeezed Marius's hand tightly with one hand, while her other hand drifted down to rest on her belly. It was slightly swollen beneath her nightgown, but not enough yet for anyone to tell. She and Marius had decided to wait a little longer before telling Angelique that she was going to be a big sister. They were both so comforted to know that Angelique would not be a lonely only-child like they had been. She and her little brother or sister would have each other to play with and share their toys with, and after this baby, they were already hoping to have more.

"I want to name this next one after Papa," Cosette said, "if it's a boy." For some reason, she felt certain that this one was a boy, even though there was no way to know for sure, of course. He was due to be born in the winter, close to Christmas, God willing.

"I like that idea," Marius said. "Jean is a fine name."

"No, not Jean," she said, and Marius was puzzled until she added, "Ultime." Cosette had thought hard about it, and she'd decided that if she had a son, she would name him after her father - but with his alias, Ultime, instead of his real name, Jean. Jean Valjean had been a convict and a fugitive. He'd known such sorrow, such hardship. But Ultime Fauchelevent had been a father and a gardener. He'd lead a simple, peaceful life - the sort of life that Cosette wanted for her children. Perhaps someday, her children would tickle their own children while drying them off after a bath. She wanted that laughter to live on. The fact that it had been born through hardship, that it had begun with her father checking to feel her ribs after she'd been half-starved - that would be forgotten, for Cosette would never speak of those sad years to Angelique. Only the joy would live on.

Sometimes, Cosette thought that she could understand now why her father had not told her so many things.

When she was pregnant with Angelique, she had considered Jeanne-Marie or Jeanette for a girl, but she couldn't go through with it. Angelique had been born less than a year after Cosette's father had died on her and Marius's wedding night. Her grief had still been so raw, so _big_; her grief had still felt like some sort of terrible wounded animal that lived inside her, clawing at her heart and refusing to die. No, she couldn't bear to burden her beautiful new baby with a name that still had such sorrow attached to it. So she and Marius had instead chosen Angelique, which Cosette liked because her papa always used to call her his angel, and Marius liked because he thought it sounded a bit like Enjolras.

Now, she still missed her papa, of course, but now, her grief was calmer and tamer. She could talk about him without crying. She felt ready, now, to name her next baby after him.

"I want to name him Ultime," she went on to Marius. "I think that's what Papa would've wanted."

"All right," Marius agreed. "If it's a boy, he'll be Ultime Pontmercy." He glanced down at Cosette's hand resting on her belly. "Do you think he knows we're talking about him?"

"Mmm, I think he's asleep," Cosette murmured, even though it was still too early on for her to feel the baby moving yet. She thought that she and Marius should pick out a girl's name too, just in case her hunch was wrong, but before she could suggest any, she let out a tremendous yawn.

"You should be asleep, too," she heard Marius say distantly. "You need your rest." But she was asleep already, one hand still in his, and dreaming about a beautiful baby boy. He would be born healthy and strong. They would name him Ultime. And maybe, God willing, he would come into her life on Christmas Eve, just as her father had.

**FIN**


End file.
